My Dearest Enemy, My Dangerous Lover
by icefire-lioness
Summary: Harry had been perfectly happy not knowing. His life was perfectly fine without this added knowledge. But he knows now, so what is he going to do about it? And he has to do SOMETHING because as we all know, our Harry is a man of action. Contains slash, DH


Harry sighed as he sat down on his bed, pulling the curtains around him.

He lay down with his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, slowly beginning to drift off, his breathing becoming slower as he relaxed.

After a few minutes of lying there, a sound made him sit up abruptly.

It sounded as though someone had opened the door.

He quietly opened the curtains a crack, peered out, and saw Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway, looking around the room with a slightly hopeless look appearing on his face as he seemed not to find whatever he was looking for.

Harry wondered briefly how he had gotten in, but was distracted after a moment as Malfoy's face cleared and he strode over to Harry's bed, pulling the curtains open abruptly.

He didn't look surprised for a moment to see Harry sitting there, his face as calm as ever.

"Potter." He said, as though simply acknowledging him in the hallway, not standing beside his bed.

"Malfoy." Said Harry, feeling thoroughly confused.

Malfoy sighed suddenly and sat down next to Harry, pulling the curtains shut again.

Harry watched him carefully, trying to figure out what was going on.

Malfoy leaned over to Harry and ran a finger down the side of his face.

Harry shivered, but didn't break eye contact with the other boy.

"We don't have much time. They'll be coming up soon."

Harry looked at him, his brow furrowed.

"Not much time for what? Who's coming up soon?"

Malfoy sighed again as though Harry was being stupid and pulled him close to his chest.

Harry didn't struggle; and, confused as he was, he was barely surprised when Malfoy tipped his chin up with a finger and kissed him softly.

Harry didn't do anything for a while, just sat there feeling a little bit hopeless and increasingly turned on, but after a while he began to kiss Malfoy back, and found, not without some surprise, that it was really very nice.

Malfoy's mouth tasted sweet, a little like strawberries, and his tongue was doing rather pleasant things to Harry's that made his brain go a bit dead.

Slowly, Malfoy's hands had been working their way up from his shoulders and to his head, and he had tangled his fingers through Harry's messy black hair, massaging his head with fingers that, Harry thought briefly before his brain shut down again, were _very_ lithe.

Suddenly Malfoy had moved his hands down and Harry groaned a little, wanting them back up, but then realised that his hands were below his shirt, and pulling it up slowly.

His hands were warm and sent little shivers of pleasure through Harry's body as he stroked up his sides.

Malfoy didn't break their kiss until the last moment when he pulled away quickly, leaving Harry feeling cold and a little bit damp and tore the shirt over his head.

The moment it was lying on the bed, Malfoy had leant back in and was kissing Harry again, but this time his hands seemed to want to stay on Harry's torso.

He was stroking Harry's skin almost _adoringly_, and Harry had quite clearly lost all of his senses, because he loved every minute of it.

Malfoy leant him back onto his pillow, still kissing him gently, and started rubbing his shoulders.

He broke away slightly, his breath still warm on Harry's cheek as he caught his breath.

Just before he started kissing him again, he whispered softly; "I love you."

_xxxx_

Harry sat up, breathing heavily.

_Loved_ him? Where on earth had that come from? Let alone all the…sweaty…_kissing_ stuff. He lay back down on the bed, running his fingers through slightly damp hair.

What kind of person dreamed about that kind of stuff?

He turned over, frowning.

Well, he had _obviously_ had those kinds of dreams with _girls_…but never…

He turned again, lying on his back.

It wasn't right.

He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep, but snapshots of his dream kept coming back to him, so he opened his eyes again.

He stared up at the ceiling, concentrating on a crack right above him that looked slightly like a rabbit and tried to clear his mind.

Every now and then his mind would start rebelling and a small thought would slip through, but mostly they were only; _this is stupid_,_you'll never get this right_, and _stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking…oh. Blank, blank, blank…crap. Nothing, nothing…ah, shit._

Eventually he started to drift off again, and this time he got through the rest of the night without dreaming.


End file.
